


one thing I really do need

by colazitron



Series: 2018 December Holiday Fic Countdown [15]
Category: SKAM (Norway)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Christmas Fluff, Christmas songs, Facials, M/M, just a hint of marriage talk, this fic has it all guys!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-15
Updated: 2018-12-15
Packaged: 2019-09-19 19:00:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,511
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17007363
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/colazitron/pseuds/colazitron
Summary: Isak comes home from meeting the boys for some gløgg feeling festive and cheerful.





	one thing I really do need

**Author's Note:**

> **Disclaimer:** I am in no way affiliated with the characters depicted herein or their creators. I made this up! For fun!
> 
>  **A/N:** for anon who wanted hot and fluffy xmas smut. I did my best!

When Isak gets home from meeting the boys for some gløgg, he does so with a bang. Literally, because he throws the door open with so much gusto that it bounces off the wall. It's a good thing that the previous tenants, or maybe the owners, put one of those half-ball wall-protection things there. They would have dented that wall about a hundred times over without one.

“Honey, I'm home!” he announces loudly, door still open behind him. Even can hear the laughter in his voice and grins down at his phone, where he's been idly browsing through some music blogs. When he looks up, Isak is beaming over at him from the hall. He's wearing a Santa hat that he definitely wasn't wearing when he left earlier.

Even sets his phone down.

“I can see that,” he says and scoots towards the edge of the bed. “And so can the neighbours.”

Isak laughs and turns around to close the door, locking it for good measure. He's clearly flushed from more than just the cold, but he's steady on his feet, leans down cheerfully to undo the laces of his winter shoes and doesn't even wobble when he comes back up. Just tipsy then. Probably higher off of spending time with his friends than the gløgg.

“Did you have a good time?” Even asks, watching Isak hang up his coat and scarf.

“Very,” Isak confirms and then twirls on his heel, a quarter turn that puts him on a path straight over to Even.

“What's with the hat?” Even asks, nodding up at it. Isak's hair is peeking out from underneath it cutely, and even with the flush on his cheeks the red matches his complexion prettily.

Isak reaches up and flicks the white bobble at the end to make it swing over his shoulder a little.

“Someone gave me it,” he says.

“What, just gave you it?”

“Yeah,” Isak says with a shrug. “This lady sold them at the market and I helped her carry a box of them over from her car, so she gave me one for free.”

Even laughs and holds out his hands towards Isak, making childish grabby hands at him. Why is Isak still all the way over there anyway?

Isak laughs and starts walking over, an exaggerated swing to his hips and shoulders like he's still got the Christmas market's no doubt obnoxiously cheesy music stuck in his head.

“Do you know how many times I've heard 'Santa, Baby' today, Even?” he asks.

Even laughs again and grabs hold of Isak's hips when he can finally reach them, pulling him in against his chest, in between his spread knees. Isak stumbles a little but he catches himself with his hands on Even's shoulders.

“No, I don't,” Even says, tilting his head back to look up at Isak.

Isak smiles down at him gently and runs a hand through his hair, fingertips pressed lightly to his scalp, combing the hair up and away from his face a few times until it stays there, still a little sticky from a day's worth of product. Even hums pleasantly and rests his chin against Isak's stomach.

“Hi,” he says, quietly.

Isak smiles down at him and trails a finger down Even's face, in a line from his forehead over the bridge of his nose, over his lips and down to the point of his chin where it's digging into Isak's soft, worn sweatshirt.

“Hi,” Isak says back and then adds, almost on key, “ _Santa, Baby_.”

Even laughs quietly.

“Too many times then?”

“Four times in two and a half hours, Even,” Isak says and sighs with exasperation. “I'll have it stuck in my head for days.”

Even grins and tilts his head to press a smacking kiss to Isak's sweatshirt-covered belly.

“Poor baby,” he says when he looks back up.

“ _Slip a sable under the tree for me,_ ” Isak sings in reply and then wrinkles his nose. “I don't even know what a sable is.”

“It's some type of fur,” Even says and Isak laughs brightly.

“How in the world do you know that?”

“I googled it a couple days ago,” Even grins. “I didn't know either and it was bothering me.”

“Well, that fits the theme of the song, I suppose, though the '54 convertible sounds a lot nicer than some fur,” Isak says and runs both hands through Even's hair, cupping his head and scratching lightly with his blunt fingernails.

Even lets his eyes flutter shut. The touch of Isak's fingertips behind his ears and at the base of his skull always makes him break out in goosebumps and if Isak keeps doing it it'll make his breathing go shallow and his mouth dry.

“ _Been an awful good girl,”_ Isak sings quietly, and Even grins and opens his eyes again, just so he can stare up at Isak and wiggle his eyebrows at him, laughing again when Isak rolls his eyes at him.

“That's how the song goes, you know that,” Isak complains.

“There's always the Michael Bublé version,” Even points out.

Isak laughs.

“ _Santa, Buddy_? God, no. That's just dumb.”

Even hums contemplatively.

“You have been very good this year – acing your exams and getting a job and doing so well at uni.”

Isak grins and nods.

“Right? _Think of all the fun I've missed_ ,” he goes on, making Even laugh again. “ _Think of all the fellas that I haven't kissed._ ”

Even arches an eyebrow.

“I should hope so,” he says sardonically, making Isak laugh.

“Yeah, that one's obvious, isn't is, Santa Baby?”

Even snorts another laugh and buries his face in Isak's belly.

“Don't call me that,” he whines. “It's weird.”

Isak hums contemplatively.

“Only because you're not wearing the hat,” he decides then, and next thing Even knows he can feel Isak putting the Santa hat on him, the bobble on the tip of it barely grazing the back of his neck.

He whines once more for good measure.

“Really?”

Isak's got a wide grin on his face, beaming like the cat that got a canary served up with cream sauce.

“What? You don't want me to hurry down your chimney and fill you stocking?”

He says it with the dirtiest inflection that grin will let him get away with, but all Even can do in response is laugh a little more.

“That doesn't even make sense,” he points out.

“You don't make sense,” Isak says, very maturely, but does finally lean down and kiss Even. Even's only been waiting for it for 500 years.

He hums into the kiss and finally lets go of Isak's hips to reach even further up for Isak's head, touching his still somewhat cold cheeks and the tips of his ears, feeling the dampness of the outside air cling to the hair that wasn't kept safe by the stupid Santa hat as he puts his hands in it.

Isak is kissing him with intent. Languidly, methodically, all deliberate swipes of his tongue and the tease of his teeth. He puts his hands back on Even's shoulders and pushes a bit, so Even puts one hand behind himself on the bed and yield, goes down onto the mattress and feels it wobble as Isak climbs up, knees either side of Even's body. He scoots up a little before he lies down so his legs don't hang off the bed, and Isak follows him as well he can, their kiss breaking only for a moment.

“Missed you,” Isak whispers into the next kiss and Even sinks down against the duvet, the warmth of Isak's body blanketing him comfortably.

“Missed you too,” he says in between kisses. Nevermind that it's only been a few hours, Even has missed him. He might not have felt it when Isak was gone, but he felt it the moment he came back; the relief at having him close again.

Isak hums in answer and then runs one of his hands down over Even's chest, the other one holding up most of his weight. He plucks at the waistband of Even's jeans teasingly, and then moves his hand lower, feeling for where Even's dick is chubbing up and bulging out the fabric a little. Isak cups his hand over him and squeezes a little, rubs his palm over it to coax it even harder.

“Wanna blow you,” he says and pulls back to look down at Even to see him answer. “Yeah?”

“Yeah, please,” Even huffs, heartbeat running away from him already at only the thought.

Isak grins like Even's given him a gift, and then shoves up Even's own t-shirt and sweatshirt so as to better get to his jeans. Even helpfully lifts his hips when Isak has him unbuttoned and unzipped. Isak grabs his waistband, curling his fingers into Even's underwear as well, and gives both a sharp yank, pulling them down past Even's hips and ass, and giving him a little jolt along the sheets.

Even laughs as his dick slaps up against his skin a little comically, but Isak grins like it's all gone according to plan. He doesn't pull Even's clothes all the way off, leaves his legs trapped in them, and Even feels the thrill of it zing up his spine when Isak bends over him and snaps his eyes up to meet Even's. He knows exactly what he looks like like that and what that does to Even, so Even really should have expected him to stick out his tongue and lick a broad stripe up Even's dick, but Even can't say he's thinking much of anything right now. Thinking is so overrated. Feeling is much better when you've got a hot boyfriend about to go down on you like it's the only thing he needs to be happy.

They always have good sex, if you ask Even. Or at least often enough that it feels like always. But sometimes they have _spectacular_ sex. When they're both in the right mood to play around with each other and their time together, when it's all about every second of eye contact, every electric touch, every kiss.

Isak's clearly feeling it now, buzzed on gløgg and Christmas cheer. All Even needs to do is lie back and let it happen, so that's exactly what he does. He falls back down against the duvet and reaches down, feeling out the contours of Isak's face with his hands so he can put his hands on Isak's head. Not to guide or rush, just to touch him.

Isak presses sucking kisses low into Even's belly, licking up the few drops of precome there with a satisfied hum low in his throat.

Even moans in response, his mind painting images on the insides of eyelids from memory and imagination, but when Isak closes his lips around the head of Even's dick and sucks, Even curses and gets back up onto his elbows.

He has to see.

Isak always looks so good like that, eyes closed in concentration and pleasure. His lips go red and swollen so fast, wet and shiny with a mix of spit and Even's precome, because Isak likes giving his blowjobs sloppy. He likes playing around, likes using his hands and getting Even as riled up as he can.

He slips the fingers of one hand between Even's legs and rubs at his perineum, where sweat is starting to gather on the skin behind Even's balls. Usually he'd rub at Even's hole, but with the way Even's jeans are squeezing his legs practically shut, he can't comfortably get his fingers back that far. Instead of being any sort of detriment, Even feels that thrill again. The knowledge that Isak's got him right where he wants him, is touching him exactly how he wants to, is one of the headiest feelings Even knows. He can't imagine ever getting tired of the way Isak wants him.

Isak opens his mouth and runs his lips lightly along the line of Even's dick, his breath hot on Even's wet skin.

“Fuck, Isak,” Even moans, eyelids heavy.

“Love you like this. So hard and hot for me,” Isak mumbles and then closes his lips around Even's dick again. He pushes down until the top of Even's dick almost hits the back of his throat, just at the edge of where he can take it easily, bobs his head like that and wanks Even firmly with his hand wrapped around what he can't cover with his mouth.

It's not a particularly artful move, this, but it's goddamn effective, pulling on the strands of Even's pleasure and yanking it right up to the surface with tight, wet heat, and Isak's practised hand. But just when Even's about to gasp out a warning, Isak leaves off. His hand slows and his mouth opens again, tongue lapping at where Even's steadily leaking precome.

Even huffs a laugh.

“Fuck,” he curses emphatically.

Isak grins up at him when their eyes meet, the stormy colour of his eyes made stormier by how his pupils have gone wider.

“Not quite,” he says, and then sinks his mouth back around Even's dick, rubs the head of it against the velvety inside of his cheek.

“God, you're such a tease,” Even whines. It's supposed to be a complaint, but it comes out sounding more like awe.

Eh. Whatever. Even's pretty in awe of Isak on a regular basis, so it's not like that's news.

Isak hums and closes his mouth around Even again, lets him feel the vibration of it and then goes back to sucking him off like he means it.

Even can hear the wet sound of Isak's hand moving on him over his own heavy breathing, can hear the way Isak slurps occasionally when he pulls too far back and almost off Even's dick – accidentally or on purpose, Even doesn't really care. He can feel his orgasm tingle in his toes already, up his legs and centring in his groin, heat and pressure about to explode outwards through his entire body if Isak just gives him a bit more.

Judging by the way Isak doubles down, that's the plan. He shifts his weight a little so his second hand can sneak up under Even's t-shirt and scratch at the skin on his chest, blindly feeling for his nipples and giving it a pinch when he finds one. When he's already riled up like this, close to coming, that touch always zaps through Even like a spark of electricity, and he feels the noise he makes more than he hears it, all of his attention on his dick and the cresting wave of his orgasm.

“Isak--” he manages to say, and then he's coming, spilling right into Isak's mouth.

Isak sucks him through it eagerly, neither his hand nor his mouth stopping until Even's thighs start to shake and he reaches down to clumsily push at his head.

“Enough,” he gasps, and Isak pulls back with a gasp of his own.

His chest is heaving when he sits back up, lips so swollen and red the sight of them makes Even's dick twitch like it wants to go again.

“Fuck,” Isak curses and scrabbles at his own jeans, fingers slipping off his button twice before he growls and finally gets it open. He shoves his pants and underwear down over his legs so he can pull them off over one foot, but doesn't bother getting the other one out as well before he wraps his hand – the one that's just been on Even's dick, still wet with his precome and Isak's own spit – around his dick.

Kneeling over Even, Isak moans, his whole body going a little slack as his hips roll forward into the touch and he sinks into the pleasure.

“Can I come on you, baby? Please?” Isak asks, eyes dark and intent on Even.

Even nods and holds Isak's gaze.

“Do it on my face,” he whispers.

Isak moans again and shuffles further up, knees either side of Even's chest.

Even moves one arm up to run his hand through his own hair. He knows how much Isak likes seeing him do that, how easy it is to pose for him, but his fingers bump into the stupid Santa hat he's completely forgotten that he's _still_ wearing.

Isak huffs a laugh and reaches out to pluck it off his head.

“You're right, this is weird now,” he says and tosses it behind himself and off the bed.

Even grins, but then Isak pushes his hips forward a little more and presses the slick head of his dick to Even's lips.

Isak's eyelids flutter and Even purses his lips in a kiss, then stretches his tongue to get a better taste of Isak before he pulls away again and goes back to wanking himself, staring down at Even's face.

Even opens his mouth wide and sticks out his tongue, holding Isak's gaze as he moves both of his hands up above his head, runs one of them through his hair on the way after all.

“So fucking gorgeous,” Isak praises, and Even feels his cheeks pull up into a smile.

Isak smiles back, shaky and small, and then moans again. “Gonna come now.”

“Do it,” Even says, and then sticks his tongue back out, lets his eyes slide shut and feels the first spurt of Isak's come on his cheek. It's warm and wet and sticky and Even knows he's going to want to wipe it off the moment they're done, but in the moment it's always one of the hottest things he's ever felt, the way it marks him as someone who can get Isak off. That all it takes is looking at him for Isak to come.

He feels the mattress dip when Isak shifts on his knees and puts the head of his dick on Even's tongue, wrings the last of his orgasm out over it.

Even waits for Isak to shift back until he swallows it, the taste of it lingering on his tongue a little. He lets Isak wipe his fingers around his eyes to make sure he isn't going to get any come in them when he opens them again and then meets Isak's own eyes with a soft smile.

“Hi,” he says again.

Isak grins and leans down to kiss him, hands on Even's sticky cheeks.

“Hi,” he says and nudges Even's nose with his own. When he pulls back it's a little shiny, making Even snort a laugh.

“We need a tissue,” he says.

Isak grins and winks at him, but then stretches to grab a wet wipe from where they keep them strategically close. He runs it gently over Even's face and then dabs at his own nose with it.

“Come on, we'll go shower,” he suggests.

Even nods and sits up slowly when Isak climbs off Even.

“Have you eaten?” Even thinks to ask. It's a bit late, but they could always whip up some pasta or something.

“Yeah, I ate with the boys,” Isak says. “You?”

Even nods. “I had the leftover dal.”

Isak hums an almost envious noise and then holds out his hand for Even to take. Even grins at him and does, letting him pull him up from the bed.

They move through their evening routine quietly, side by side. Isak hums a few bars of one or the other Christmas song every now and then; distractedly, like he's not even aware he's doing it.

“ _Santa baby, forgot to mention one little thing_ ,” Isak croons when they climb back into bed together.

Even laughs up at the ceiling and stretches his arm out for Isak to come cuddle up to him. Isak grins and walks his fingers up over Even's chest, cradling his face gently and giving him a sweet kiss.

“ _A_ _ring_ ,” he finishes. “ _And_ _I don't mean on the phone._ ”

He's still smiling, but there's something there on his face that has Even's heartbeat trip and stumble, makes his fingers go numb and tingle.

“Isak,” he breathes. He can't--- surely Isak's not--- they've never even talked about---

Isak kisses him again.

“Some day, I think,” Isak says.

“Yeah?” Even asks, voice catching in his throat.

Isak hums in agreement and then lies down, tilting his head up so he can still look at Even.

“Well, who else really?” he says, half-teasing and half-serious.

 _No one else_ , if it's up to Even.

Some days it still feels too soon. He feels too young, too thin, too fragile to even think about it. But other days he feels solid and old, wants to at least start talking about it.

He leans down and kisses Isak, unsure how to say any of that. Isak kisses him back and smiles.

When they pull apart Isak settles back down and presses a kiss to Even's chest.

“Goodnight,” he says.

Even ducks his face into Isak's hair and gives him a kiss there.

“Goodnight,” he answers. “See you tomorrow.”

He doesn't have to look to know that Isak's smiling.

 

**The End**


End file.
